Sort of Almost Happy
by Rietta
Summary: Grace is upset by a memorable incident at work- warning: Series 1 spoiler! ; but Boyd is... happy! The rest of the team can't work out what is going on.
1. Resignation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well!

**Chapter 1: Resignation**

Peter Boyd's good day was ruined half-way through by a letter. It had stared up at him from his desk as he strolled back into his office around lunchtime. Naturally curious, he had reached over and opened it as he sat down behind the desk. The further he read, the further the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a frown. With an indistinct choking utterance, he turned back to the beginning of the letter immediately upon finishing to ensure that he had read it correctly, hoping that it would miraculously change in content before his eyes. But no, each word remained exactly the same. Allowing his hot temper to catch up with him, Boyd flung the letter down on the desk and strode to the door, throwing it open.

"Grace!" he yelled authoritatively, closing the door with a bang as he returned to his seat.

In her office, Dr Grace Foley sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. She had been expecting the summons all morning, but that did not make them any easier to respond to. Slowly she rose to her feet and made her way next door, knowing full well the consequences if Boyd were kept waiting.

"You know, I could hear you through the wall," she commented with false humour as she entered his office. "No need to walk to the door."

Boyd waved aside the feeble attempt at humour with the letter, which he dropped on the desk in front of her, glaring over the top of his glasses. "What is the meaning of this?"

Grace took a seat opposite Boyd and pushed the letter back towards him. "I thought I made that clear, Boyd- it's a letter of resignation."

"I can see that!" he retorted angrily, removing his glasses and folding them with a snap. "But why?"

Grace looked down at her hands, then back up to his face. "Because I don't think I can do this job any more."

Boyd sat back in his chair, shaking his head disbelievingly. "You don't think you can do this job any more," he repeated slowly. "Grace, you've been a psychological profiler half your life- why is it suddenly so impossible to carry on?" He stared hard into the blue eyes in front of him, willing her to change her mind or at the very least to give him an answer he could work with.

"It's not the job in general that's the problem," she explained slowly, willing him to understand.

He stared at her without comprehension. "So what are you saying?"

Her eyes flickered closed for a second before she looked back at him. "It's _this_ job," she concluded with a vague wave behind her in the general direction of the main office. "I'm sorry, Boyd; I just can't keep on doing this job."

With one foot he pulled his chair closer to the desk, leaning forwards to rest his chin on his hands. "Why not?" he asked levelly.

She stared calmly back at him, holding his gaze, fighting to keep her focus. "It's too hard. Seeing the rest of you walking into danger day in, day out… It's just too much. I can't do this any more."

He bit the corner of his lip hard in a struggle to control his face. "But we need you, Grace," he said quietly; causing a quick flutter of animation in the warm blue eyes opposite.

"We?" she queried sardonically in a characteristic way; and Boyd found himself nodding as he elaborated.

"The team needs you. _I_ need you!" Up until this moment, Boyd had not realised just how much he relied on Grace's expert judgement, even temper and almost constant good humour to solve cases.

Grace felt her heartstrings flutter at the almost childlike appeal in his tone and expression, and fought to keep her composure. "You can hire another profiler…"

Keeping his temper was always a struggle for Boyd, and this time he snapped, banging his hand down on the desk as he retorted. "I don't want another damn profiler!"

She flinched at the impact, and he forced himself to take deep breaths and calm down.

"They wouldn't be you, Grace."

Again she felt her heartstrings tugged. "Peter, please…" she begged quietly, and her rare use of his Christian name moved him.

"Seeing me stabbed really affected you deeply, didn't it?" he asked softly, and she nodded.

"Watching you, and knowing I couldn't do anything about it… I can't carry on like that, Boyd. When he pushed that blade into you, it was like he was stabbing me as well."

Something in the back of Boyd's mind clicked and he sat back in his chair again, gazing at her thoughtfully.

"So it's like that, is it?" he queried, and she fixed her focus on the desk, unable to meet his eye. "Grace, look at me," he ordered, straightening up; but still her eyes remained cast down.

"Look at me," he repeated with more authority.

This time she raised her head and regarded him as steadily as she could; fearing she had said too much. He leaned forward as he sought to reassure her. "Grace… If that's what we both wanted, nothing could stop us."

She raised an eyebrow. "I note your use of the past tense… Point taken."

She was rising to leave with as much dignity as she could muster when he tutted, shaking his head. "Dr Foley, your grammar _is_ out of practice! That was the conditional tense."

She sank back into her seat again, regarding him with dry amusement.

"And what might the conditions be?"

He smiled, melting her resolve before he even asked. "Just two. One: that you promise not to leave. And two: that you let me take you out for a drink after work tonight."

A slow smile crossed her face to echo his, and she nodded slowly. "I suppose I can just about manage that…"


	2. We Are On The Brink Of A New Era

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well!

**Chapter 2: We Are On The Brink Of A New Era**

The pub which Boyd led the way into a few hours later was fairly crowded. He glanced questioningly at Grace, wondering if it was too noisy to talk; but she shrugged and followed him to the bar.

"Red wine?" he enquired, and she nodded.

"Please." There didn't seem to be any tables free, so Grace seated herself on a bar stool whilst Boyd leant on the bar to order the drinks. The barman was efficient, and Grace hardly had time to think about what to say before her drink was placed on the bar in front of her.

"Cheers." Boyd held his whisky out towards her, and she smiled as she clinked the wine glass against it.

"Cheers."

Just how the conversation they had scheduled to have here would proceed, neither were entirely sure. They had sat talking in pubs, just the two of them, many times before; but the conversation that lunchtime had somehow changed the nature of all that, and the silence was somewhat awkward.

A sip of whisky helped settle Boyd's nerves, and he glanced across at her with a hint of a smile. "Got any sayings for this?"

Well Grace remembered their last conversation in this bar- from a discussion about sayings and proverbs they had proceeded to Nelson's one eye and Napoleon's vanity, before looping back to the case of the time. Because that was how it went- conversation always meandered back to work.

Pushing this thought from her mind, Grace suggested the first relatively fitting saying to drop into her head. "Que sera sera?"

Boyd gave that disarmingly handsome smile of his as he translated. "Whatever will be, will be."

Grace took a sip of wine. "Yes. We'll always be friends, Boyd; that's certain. I can't have you threatening suspects without my disapproval."

He laughed, the years falling away from his face. "Don't worry, I know you'll disapprove of me threatening suspects wherever you happen to be. Which should be in the interview rooms, considering you promised not to leave."

She smiled, trying to focus all her professional expertise on analysing Boyd's mood. How was this conversation likely to go?

"So I did!" she remarked lightly, feigning surprise whilst inwardly wondering what she'd do with her time if she didn't work with the Cold Case Squad. Return to Broadmoor, perhaps- but instinctively she knew she'd miss Boyd's startling changes of moods, his uneven yet strangely attractive personality. She'd worry constantly about his unstable temper and odd bouts of unprofessionalism… No, it was far better that she'd promised to stay. She'd continue to worry about Boyd- and Spence and Mel too, she reflected- as long as they were in the Police Force, regardless of where she herself was. So surely it was better to worry about them whilst enjoying their company; enjoying working with them, teaching them and learning from them; keeping a direct eye on Boyd's more questionable actions.

Boyd watched the thoughts flowing through her mind, wishing he could read them. He shared an undeniable bond with Grace, whether it were friendship or something deeper; but for all that he could not read her thoughts. Yet he knew it was she who kept him stable at work; his temper in check as far as possible; his treatment of suspects from creatively drifting too far from the book. It was _her_ approval that really mattered; _her_ disappointment that hurt most; only _her_ who could be guaranteed an apology for any small upset. Boyd didn't speak apologies, he showed them. But for Grace, it was different.

Giving up at reading her mind, he replied flirtatiously, trying to gauge her emotions. "So now you're at my beck and call for as long as I need…"

She laughed, encouraged by the positive signals she was receiving from him. "Flirt all you like, Boyd, I'm still not going to approve of anything."

He smiled his amusement as he instantly replied softly: "I wouldn't want you to- something would be wrong with the world if you did. I need your disapproval to keep me on the straight and narrow, Grace."

She nodded as she sipped her wine, pleased. She knew from experience that Boyd was not one to talk about his feelings, and this admission that he cared, however roundabout, meant a lot to Grace. It was all she could hope to get out of him at one time, but for now, it was enough. It was a start, and that was all that tonight was about- analysing their feelings for one another to see where their future relations lay- in friendship or something more.

Something more certainly seemed possible, Grace reflected as she observed again his charming smile, her mind recalled to the last case the team had cleaned up. She'd been talking to a suspect over the internet when Boyd had strolled in to announce that they had to begin the case again from scratch. She'd nodded agreement, willing Boyd to be quiet, not wanting his voice picked up by her listener, but he hadn't received her telepathic message and had asked what she was doing, coming to see. She hadn't replied, her listener had stayed quiet, and he had jokingly commented with a click of the tongue: "I knew I shouldn't have taught you about the net!" He'd let his hand slip from the back of her chair to her shoulder as he bid her goodbye, and she could still feel the gentle touch as her listener enquired suspiciously: "Who's that?" "My husband," she had promptly replied to salvage the situation, and Boyd had tutted again on his way out of the room. "Naughty girl!" had been the comment, but it had been more flirtatious than disapproving and a smile had remained on her face as she resumed her conversation and he quitted the room. On the way to the other side of the computer screen, and the basement of her suspect, as it happened, where he had been stabbed in front of her eyes.

She shuddered at the memory, and felt his gentle and sympathetic hand on her arm.

"Thinking about the stabbing again?" he asked, and she nodded, taking a sip of her drink to steady her shaken nerves.

"You know such things are quite rare, and I'm perfectly alright now," he reassured her softly, and she smiled weakly in reply.

Noting that her glass was almost empty, he drained his own in a single fluid motion and stood up. "Come on, we've talked enough for one night. Let's get you home."

Glad of the diversion, Grace finished her drink and took the hand he offered to help her to rise. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's got into me lately."

Boyd smiled down at her as she picked up her bag. "Of course you do, you're a psychologist! Now I don't remember all your fancy terms, but the words 'post traumatic stress' ring a bell. Unless that's supposed to be me?"

Grace laughed as he led the way back out of the pub, glad of the diversion. "Something like that…"


	3. A Little Less Conversation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well! I know it's been a bit Boyd/Grace focused so far, but we'll be seeing the 'youngsters' next chapter. ; )

**Chapter 3: A Little Less Conversation**

It was Boyd's car they had driven to the pub in, so it was Boyd's car they climbed into now to return to their respective homes. The journey passed in relative silence, both reflecting on the conversation they'd just had; and the car pulled up outside Grace's house in what seemed like no time.

"Well, here we are," Boyd commented unnecessarily, and Grace smiled.

"Do you want to come in for a coffee?"

Boyd considered for a second- was it a good idea to continue talking now, or would it be better to sleep on it first? He shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Don't sound so enthusiastic!" Grace chided as Boyd locked the car, reaching for her door keys.

"I'm sorry." His apology was instant, easy, and she smiled.

"Milk and one sugar?"

He nodded as he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. "Please."

Wandering into the kitchen, Grace filled the kettle and clicked the 'on' switch before filling two mugs with coffee. "Make yourself at home," she called through as she fetched the milk from the fridge; and Boyd strolled through to the living room.

"Will do," he replied, glancing around with interest- he didn't visit Grace at home often.

He was standing looking at the photographs on the mantelpiece when she came through with the coffees, and turned to smile as she entered.

"This your mother?" he enquired, waving a hand towards the frame in front of him, and she nodded as she handed him his coffee.

The silence hung awkwardly between them for a moment as Grace took a seat on the sofa and Boyd sat down next to her; neither feeling entirely comfortable. Well, Grace thought with an ironic raise of the eyebrow, it would have to be the case. If this new ground brought such silences, they would have to begin by going over old ground.

"Do you really believe Peterson killed Elmsworth?" she enquired, and he nodded, settling back in what experience taught her to recognise as his most casual assertive post.

"Definitely! He's got the motive, the opportunity… What more do you want?"

She settled back more comfortably too as she replied. "But he doesn't fit the profile of a cold blooded killer. He'd kill in a fit of passion, or rage; but I simply cannot see him successfully planning and executing a cold-blooded, premeditated murder!"

Usually being blatantly disagreed with like this would snap a nerve in Boyd and the discussion would become increasingly heated; but today he remained calm as he observed her thoughtfully. "All right then, supposing that's true. Who do you think is guilty?"

"I don't know," Grace admitted, noting with surprise that her cup was half-empty already. "But it wasn't Peterson."

To her surprise, Boyd accepted her quietly confident answer, and they sipped in silence for a few moments, relaxed at last into companionable silence. Inwardly Grace laughed- how typical that it took a discussion of the case before they were comfortable in one another's company once more! The reason for their temporary discomfort rocketed through her mind without warning, and she drained her cup with a wince at the cool liquid, suddenly feeling exhausted. The emotion had apparently spread to Boyd- even as Grace set her empty cup down on the coffee table he mirrored her action, then leaned back against the sofa and yawned. The action brought a smile to Grace's lips almost before she realised. The scene was almost like one she had dreamed about many times over the last year or so, ever since her 'reunion' with Boyd. And now that dream seemed close enough to touch.

Oblivious to the thoughts floating through his companion's mind, Boyd stretched and rose to his feet. "It's getting late," he commented with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. "I suppose I ought to be going."

Much as a part of her would have liked to ask him to stay, she knew that it was too soon; the connection was too fragile. "Yes, I suppose you should," she replied, getting up too.

She lifted Boyd's coat from where he had abandoned it over the back of a chair, and he smiled as he shrugged into it. The slightly uncomfortable silence seemed to be descending again, and in an attempt to fight it, Grace led the way to the door to show Boyd out. He followed immediately, his mind preoccupied with how to say goodbye. A sudden thought struck him, and he chuckled.

"What time would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?"

She looked confused. "What?"

Boyd grinned. "Well, how exactly were you planning to get to work when your car's back at the station? Got a motorbike hidden away in the kitchen?"

Grace laughed even as she rolled her eyes at his gentle sarcasm. "Oi, I just forgot for a moment, no need to be patronising?"

"Sorry." Once again his apology was quick and easy, and she smiled forgiveness as she opened the door for him.

"Eight will be fine." She knew Boyd liked to get into work early, and she wasn't averse to it herself on the odd occasion. Besides, this was an interesting case.

"Goodnight, Boyd." She had turned slightly to face him, and he smiled down at her as he replied.

"Night, Grace." He hesitated for a second, looking into her appealing blue eyes for a sign, then leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. He felt her lips stir for the briefest of seconds, kissing him back; then with one accord they pulled away, and Boyd stepped through the open door, the smile on his face hidden by his back.

Grace stood in the doorway, watching him walk back to his car. As he opened the driver's door, he glanced back at the house and waved. She waved back, wondering if her ridiculously happy smile showed on her face in the dim light. She watched until the car pulled away from the kerb, and then shut the door, touching a tender finger to her lips where he had kissed her. It was only one brief goodnight kiss, but it had been full of understanding and hope. And for now, that was enough.


	4. Somewhat Curious

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well!

**Chapter 4: Somewhat Curious**

"Is it just me, or is Boyd... happy?" DC Mel Silver demanded as she stared at the closing door of her boss' office. DS Spencer Jordan followed her gaze, then shrugged.

"Must be a woman."

"So you do think he's happy?" Mel persisted, and Spence grinned.

"Let's hope he keeps this up- we might get a quiet day for once."

Mel paused for a second to consider her colleague's reply; and in that second the door to the Cold Case Unit's main office swung open to admit forensic pathologist Dr Frankie Wharton. She was humming under her breath, but stopped short when she saw the expressions on her colleagues' faces.

"Alright, what's got into you?"

"Boyd," Mel began dramatically, pausing for effect, "is happy."

Frankie glanced through Boyd's office window in time to spy him glaring at his computer screen.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well we walked in and he actually walked out of his office and smiled and said good morning!" Mel explained. "And it wasn't in a sarcastic way!" she added quickly, forestalling the question on the pathologist's lips.

Whatever retort Frankie might have been about to make was lost as Boyd's office door opened again and the three in the main office turned to look at him with identical suspiciously innocent expressions.

"Morning Frankie! Nice to see you," Boyd greeted his pathologist with a smile, and she smiled back, trying not to let her confusion show on her face.

"Morning, Boyd."

"Team meeting as soon as Grace gets here," he told her, and she nodded mutely. As the door to her boss' office closed again, she turned back to her two friends.

"Okay, that is **not** normal!"

"What isn't?" a fresh voice enquired, and the three wheeled round just in time to catch Grace Foley's warm smile as she greeted them. "Morning all."

"Morning Grace!" Mel greeted her friend with a smile, the other two adding their greetings a split second later. Grace dropped her bag on the nearest desk and shrugged out of her coat.

"What isn't normal?"

"Boyd is happy," Frankie informed the profiler with one eyebrow raised sardonically. Spence shook his head.

"I still say it's a woman."

"What makes you so sure?" Mel asked.

"Well what else ever makes him happy?"

Spence's question hung on the air as Grace picked up her bag and walked into her office, her retreating back hiding her secret smile. Once she had hung her bag and coat on the stand, she meandered over to her desk and picked up the phone, making sure she kept her back to the others, whom she could still hear hotly discussing the potential cause of Boyd's apparent sudden happiness.

Despite his apparent interest in the computer screen, Boyd's attention had actually been focused on the happenings in the main office, and it came as little surprise to him when his phone began to ring- he's caught the full benefit of Grace's secret smile.

"Boyd," he answered smartly, expecting the caller to be Grace but at the same time not wanting to risk annoying the Commissioner, should he be the one at the other end of the line.

"Apparently you're happy." Grace's accusation was gentle, teasing, and a genuine smile broke out on Boyd's face at the sound of her voice.

"Better start yelling," she advised him sincerely. "Wouldn't want them to start suspecting anything now, would you?"

Boyd chuckled. "You've got thirty seconds to get out of that office before I yell you for the team meeting." He put the phone down.

Grace smiled and counted to thirty as she lifted a couple of files from her bag, listening for the background chatter to cease, signalling that Boyd had entered the main office.

Out in the main office, the three younger members of the team observed Boyd intently, wondering when he would appear for the team meeting that had been scheduled for Grace's arrival. The phone call had delayed proceedings, of course, but the smile the boss' face made all three suspicious at once.

"Told you it's a woman," Spence muttered darkly.

"Maybe he won the lottery," Mel opposed her colleague a touch sarcastically. Frankie shook her head.

"Nah, he'd've told us if he did. I agree with Spence- it's gotta be a woman."

"Thank you!" Spence took a mock bow, earning himself an odd look from Boyd as the Detective Superintendent strode into the main office to gather his team.

"Grace!"

Smiling to herself, the profiler appeared from her office; and the team meeting began without a further hitch.


	5. An Issue Or Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well!

**Chapter 5: An Issue Or Two**

"Doing anything tonight?"

A shadow fell across Grace's desk and she looked up, startled- she hadn't heard Boyd approach.

"Nothing special," she replied, emotive blue eyes drifting over the main office to check that they were alone. Whilst she and Boyd were stuck in this 'will-they-won't-they' limbo of discovering and analysing feelings, she didn't want the rest of the team to find out.

"Don't worry, Frankie's in the lab and Mel and Spence went to bring Walker in." Boyd leaned casually against the doorframe. "So... Do you want to do me the honour of dining with me later?"

Grace raised her eyebrows at his choice of words.

"Now I never had you down as an old-fashioned romantic!" she grinned then continued, cutting across whatever protest Boyd was trying to make. "Yes Peter, I would love to 'do you the honour' of dining with you later." Her blue eyes sparkled. "As long as you're paying."

Boyd chuckled. "Oh, well in that case... I don't think I can afford the wine to keep you happy..."

"No?" Grace questioned, laying the innocence on thick. "But Mel thinks you've won the lottery!"

Boyd laughed. "I wish!"

Grace looked at him with amusement in her eyes. "Well how about we just go to dinner and discus who's paying when the bill comes?"

Boyd smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and gave them a spark of warmth.

"Good idea. I'll pick you up at seven..."

~ * ~ * ~

The word 'date' was imprinted on Grace's mind and she hummed softly to herself as she got ready for dinner with Peter. A tiny, irrevocably teenage part of her thought to wonder what Boyd was planning to wear- she didn't want to be over- or under-dressed! But she quelled the worry firmly with a chuckle at the idea that Boyd might actually appreciate her being under-dressed. Looking nice and being confident were the main things- after all, Boyd was the only one she was looking to impress, not half of London. Thus thinking, she pulled her favourite long slimming black dress out of the wardrobe and slipped it over her head. Fresh make-up, a pair of low-heeled black leather shoes and some simple yet elegant silver jewellery completed the look. Even as she fastened the clasp of her necklace a knock sounded at the door, and she glanced at her watch in surprise. Five to seven. It wasn't like Boyd to be early (except for work, of course!).

But when she opened the door moments later, it _was_ Boyd smiling back at her from the doorstep. When he saw her, the smile froze on his lips and something sparked in his eyes; some secret emotion she didn't recall ever having seen there before.

"Good evening, Peter," Grace greeted him, a hint of puzzlement in her eyes. Boyd struggled to pull himself together and speak.

"Hi Grace. You look... amazing!" His tones were sincere, and she smiled a little self-consciously.

"Thanks."

Picking up her bag and coat from the hall table, she stepped through the door and locked it behind her. His eyes continued to rove appreciatively over her figure as he watched her, and he was almost a split second late to help her into her coat. With a smile, he offered her his arm.

"Shall we?"

~ * ~ * ~

The restaurant was surprisingly quiet for a Thursday evening, and Boyd and Grace revelled in the peace as they followed the waiter to their table.

"So is this an official date?" Grace enquired lightly as she sat down on the chair that Peter pulled out for her courteously.

He frowned slightly, the expression in his eyes unreadable even to the psychologist.

"Well, yes, I'd like to think so, Grace," he replied seriously as he sat down opposite her and picked up the menu.

Echoing his action, Grace frowned too, her expression masked by the elegant leather folder. Why that frown? Had she been overcautious and in the process led him to wonder if her feelings for him were less than he'd thought or hoped?

"Good, that's what I was hoping," she commented simply, opening the menu; and to her relief he smiled again- a genuine smile that brought his eyes alive with warmth.

"So does that mean we're an official couple then?" he asked lightly; and despite all the loud and violent protestations of her head, Grace could not prevent her heart from answering.

"Well, yes, I'd like to think so, Peter."

"Good, that's what I was hoping."


	6. More Curious Still

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well!

**Chapter 6: More Curious Still...**

"Okay, this is starting to freak me out," Mel muttered, and Spence chuckled as both pairs of eyes followed Boyd's retreating back as the Detective Superintendent headed for his office. But before the young Detective Sergeant had time to reply, Frankie hurried into the main office, looking mystified.

"Am I dreaming, or was that Boyd... humming?!" the pathologist demanded without pausing for any kind of greetings to be exchanged.

"That was Boyd, humming," Spence assured her helpfully, with a glance at his boss' office. He turned back to grin charmingly at Frankie.

"I still say it's a woman."

"What's a woman?" Grace enquired as she entered the main office, grinning to herself. "Morning all."

"Boyd's humming," Frankie offered sardonically by way of explanation.

"Oh. Must be a woman then," Grace agreed as she headed for her office to drop off her bag, grinning at the sound of Spence's self-satisfied: "See?" Once in her inner sanctuary, she closed the door quietly and headed for the phone again. It had scarcely rung once when Boyd picked up.

"Boyd."

"Apparently I'm a woman," she informed him calmly, scarcely able to keep the grin out of her tones.

"Yeah, I noticed." She could feel his smile down the line.

Outside in the main office, the same thought struck Mel.

"You know, Grace is a woman," she observed thoughtfully. Her observation was greeted by twin snorts of amusement from Spence and derision from Frankie.

"Hey, you noticed! Well done, Detective Constable, that's gotta deserve a promotion!" Spence teased his partner even as Frankie scoffed derisively:

"What, Boyd and Grace?! Never!"

Spence looked at the pathologist in mock horror. "I don't even want to think about it!"

"Stranger things have happened!" Mel protested in self-defence. "Anyway, haven't you two noticed that Grace also seems happy?"

"Grace is always happy, Mel," Frankie informed her friend patiently with the air of one explaining something to a small child. "Except of course when she's getting yelled at by Boyd," the pathologist finished in her normal tones.

"Exactly; if she were with Boyd Grace would be **less** happy!" Spence theorized with a grin, backing Frankie up.

Any further speculation the three might have entertained on the matter was postponed by Boyd's abrupt entry into the main office, accompanied by the familiar yell of "Grace!". The profiler appeared so quickly, it was almost as if she'd been waiting for the summons. Mel narrowed her eyes suspiciously, then shrugged to herself. Nah, she was reading too much into things- Grace knew what Boyd was like; and they usually commenced the day with a team meeting, even if it was just one like today's.

"Ok, so what you got?" Boyd demanded, staring round the team.

Frankie rolled her eyes. "Boyd, we haven't actually done anything since we last saw you."

Boyd glanced at his junior detectives, who shrugged.

"Ok, has **anyone** actually done anything since we last spoke?" he asked, forcing his eyes to flick to Grace, even though he knew perfectly well that she hadn't done anything since leaving work the previous afternoon. (Well, that wasn't _strictly_ true...) Boyd struggled to suppress a smile at the memory of her lips firmly pressed against his the previous evening.

"A chorus of 'no's met his ears, jolting him from his pleasant memories. (God it had been nice to kiss her like that! More than nice, in fact...)

"What about you, boss? You got anything?" Spence enquired with a grin, settling back into his chair in anticipation of the suitably smug and inspired 'lecture' that was sure to follow his question.

Boyd shook his head. "Nope."

Three pairs of incredibly shocked eyes and one pair of dancing blue ones turned to stare at him. Perhaps today's team meeting wasn't so ordinary after all! Mel pricked up her ears at once, her suspicions aroused again. Spence raised an eyebrow and fought the burning temptation to give a low whistle. Boyd's brown eyes caught Frankie's and held her astonished gaze resolutely, determined not to glance across at the dancing blue eyes above soft full lips that could barely contain the urge to smile as Grace struggled to hide her amusement.

"Nope?!?" Spence repeated incredulously.

"I do have a life outside the office you know Spence!" Boyd retorted, struggling to hide his amusement as he accidentally caught Grace's eye.

"Could've fooled me," Mel muttered to Frankie, and the pathologist sniggered, recovering herself with difficulty as she felt Boyd's eyes fix on her.

"Ahem, well, I'll just get back to the lab then, shall I?" she managed to enquire in suitably innocent tones, and Boyd nodded.

"Now there's an idea."

The pathologist rose to go, but her boss' voice stopped her halfway to the door.

"And Frankie... Don't come back until you've got something for me."

"Yes, Sir!" the pathologist replied smartly, cracking a mock salute as she headed out of the main office. Happy or not, there was just no changing Boyd, it seemed...

Sensing that the atmosphere could rapidly go downhill, Spence and Mel hauled themselves to their feet and got to work. Boyd stood and watched them from a moment or two, then headed for his office. In the doorway he paused and turned.

"Grace..." he began; causing the profiler to halt her journey to her own office; "I want Walker's profile on my desk by lunchtime."

She sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good."

With what seemed like one accord, the two office doors closed, and a temporary peace descended on the CCU offices, broken only by the brisk tapping of Spence and Mel's keyboards as they searched for information on their suspect.


	7. Secrets and Lies

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is my first WtD fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't pretend to be an expert on how the Metropolitan Police work, so this is just focusing on characters rather than cases. Please let me know if I've 'captured' the characters well!

**Chapter 7: Secrets and Lies**

_-_

_A week or so later..._

-

"So how much do you think that lot out there realise?" Grace asked as she leaned against the closed door of Boyd's office. They had already established an unwritten rule that they acted absolutely professionally at work; but the question had been burning in her mind all morning and she could not resist the temptation of asking.

Boyd chuckled. "Why, are you ashamed of me or something?" He knew that wasn't the case. It wasn't that they actively wanted to deceive the rest of the team, but they both knew that they wanted to keep their relationship under wraps for the time being. At least until it had progressed beyond kissing and become something more serious, anyhow. They might have been suppressing their feelings for one another for a while- at least a year!- but all the same they wanted to take things slow and steady, not rushing into anything they might later regret.

So far it had worked very well. Their professional conduct at work had been unimpeachable, and if Boyd occasionally struggled to suppress a sexy thought or two when catching a certain light in Grace's eyes, it was scarcely noticeable to the unsuspecting eye. To all intents and purposes, nothing had changed. Except one thing; which Grace voiced now with a chuckle.

"You know, the only thing that could possibly be fuelling their suspicions is the fact that you are happy."

Boyd pouted. "Am I not allowed to be happy?"

Grace smiled. She loved the idea that she was the one to make Boyd so evidently happy. Especially when one took into consideration that this was _Boyd_ they were talking about: DSI Peter Boyd, universally acknowledged to be irrevocably grumpy, irascible and unpredictable. Until now, it seemed. Her smile broadened.

"Yes dear, you are allowed to be happy. Just don't show it quite so much, hmm? You're starting to scare the rest of the team. They're beginning to wonder who you are and what you've done with Peter Boyd."

Boyd laughed. "You tell me, Grace- you're the one that's caused all these changes!"

Grace smiled seductively. "Well come over for dinner tonight and I might just explain it to you..."


	8. Curious Resolutions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Pairings: **Boyd/Grace

**Spoilers:** Series 1- Set sometime between Episode 3 ('A Simple Sacrifice') and Episode 4 ('Every Breath You Take')

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** Well, this is the end. Thanks to shadowsamurai, pook and CatS81 for their encouraging reviews- hope you enjoyed it!

**Chapter 8: Curious Resolutions**

"Okay, that does it. Who are you, and what have you done with Boyd?" Frankie demanded as she stared at the tableful of coffee and bacon sandwiches. Mel and Spence were equally astounded. Boyd buying breakfast was a thing quite unheard of.

Boyd looked affronted. "Look, do you lot have a problem with the fact that I'm happy? Because if you do, you can just stick it, alright?!" He glared at them, looking much more like the Boyd they knew of old. "Oh, and you don't have to eat those," he added as an afterthought, gesturing to the plate of bacon sarnies. "I'm sure Grace and I can manage two."

He had never seen them move so fast. Watching from the sidelines, Grace struggled to hide her amusement as she sipped her coffee. It had been Peter's idea- he'd nip across the road for breakfast whilst she went up the road to the offices, thus not arousing suspicion by arriving together.

"No, no, it's fine, you can be happy!" Mel assured Boyd, grinning as she tucked into her bacon sarnie. Spence was too busy eating to pass comment; but Frankie grinned cheekily at Boyd.

"You know, you need to get laid more often."

Boyd's face was a picture. He turned scarlet and made some small choking utterance that might or might not have been a strangled "Frankie!!!", grabbing his breakfast and heading for his office to recover his composure. Spence winked at the ladies- this seemed to prove beyond all doubt that he was right, and there was a woman behind Boyd's sudden strange burst of happiness. Frankie meanwhile was regarding Grace suspiciously. As Mel's chuckles died down, the pathologist's grin broadened as she turned to the profiler.

"You as well, Grace- you're positively glowing this morning."

Grace's reaction was almost as good as Boyd's. Flushing an even deeper shade of scarlet with embarrassment, she made a similar choking noise and fled for the sanctuary of her office, taking her breakfast with her.

Out in the main office, the three youngsters feel about laughing.

"You know, you might just have been right about Boyd and Grace, Mel!" Frankie chortled, wiping a tear from her eye before she set off laughing again. "Oh my God, their faces!"

The two junior officers fell about again.

From the safety of his office, Boyd gazed out at the three minxes as he reached for the phone.

"Do you think they might suspect something?" he demanded as soon as Grace answered, and the profiler laughed.

"I think they might, Peter, I think they might."

She glanced sideways, through to where Boyd was grinning cheekily at her as he voiced his next question.

"So do you think they're right?"

"About what?" Grace enquired sweetly, false innocence and amusement colouring her tones- she knew full well what he meant.

"About me- and you- needing to get laid more often."

Grace chuckled. "What do you think, Peter?" she asked neutrally, turning his question round on him.

He laughed. "It might benefit the team, don't you think, Grace?"

She grinned back at him through the dividing glass. "Oh, well in that case..."

Out in the main office, the other three watched the conversation with interest, catching the gist without needing to hear the words. As Boyd and Grace put their phones down, Mel stuck her tongue out at the others.

"Told you so."

THE END


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